Screw Destiny, Again
by smalld1171
Summary: Short one-shot. Set in the season 8 finale as Dean walks into the church.


**Screw Destiny, Again**

_HI. Just a quick one-shot in an attempt to start up my muse, who seems to have slunk away into a dark corner and pulled the covers over its head._

_Set in the season 8 finale as Dean walks into the church._

**Disclaimer: I own NOTHING!**

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Once acutely tuned in to his brother's flair for dramatic entrances when coming to save the day, and more specifically _him_, Sam is totally oblivious to Dean's arrival and presence in the church, which only serves to crank up the older brother's worry quotient to an all time high.

Dean's eyes quickly scan the room; the surroundings are disturbing, to say the least. There is an unnatural glow in the place and it is emanating, vibrating from just beneath his brother's skin. The golden hue seems to be in constant flux, travelling in a patchwork of colour, its ebb and flow akin to competing currents that fight against each other in the throes of a stormy sea. Cusps of light intertwine eerily with the crimson fluid that seeps from the slash evident on Sam's palm; golden tendrils drift up from the wound like ghostly fingers trying to grasp onto the air around them.

Dean feels his own blood drain away from his body as he looks on, the liquid seeming to gather at his feet and cement him where he stands. He flinches as Sam languidly moves forward and a rattling shiver skims along his spine when he realizes his brother is not edging closer to _him, _but rather to the King of Hell; Sam's focus total and complete only on the figure in the chair.

Which brings Dean's attention to Crowley, who _also_ doesn't seem to have batted an eyelash at the hunter's proximity. The demon isn't struggling; there is no vileness, no jabs or insults making their way out of his usually sarcastic mouth. Crowley is still and silent, and Dean ponders the magnitude of that fact; that the trial has not only had its so called 'purifying effect' on Sam, but also on Hell's number one douchebag.

The realization hits swift and hard and he gasps, the phantom mental force knocking the wind out of him like he just got punched in the gut. He swallows roughly as it sinks in; the trial _will_ work and Crowley _will_ be cured. Just one final step is all it will take to snuff out the demon vermin that has plagued every moment of his existence; that has doled out pain, loss, grief and torment among him, his brother and an untold number of innocents.

One final Winchester sacrifice, _Sam's_ sacrifice, is all it will take to close the pit and keep the sludge that slithers within it sealed, forever, never again to wreak havoc and darkness upon the earth.

Dean feels the slightest niggle of doubt worm its way into his psyche. He barged into the church, his motivation and goal intact, ready to do whatever it took to stop Sam; to prevent the now known outcome from becoming an unacceptable reality. But now, with his brother unwittingly standing on the precipice of death, Dean stands motionless, his mind racing and conflicted, his heart clamoring erratically in his chest.

They have worked selflessly, have endured evil in its purest form, have suffered and lost, have fought and struggled side by side for this exact moment; to bear witness to a conclusion they never could have imagined, and the temptation of it, of actually closing the gates of Hell dangles mercilessly, like a carrot in front of a starving man.

Dean's eyes close and he runs a shaking hand across his face. It could _all_ end, right here and right now.

All he has to do is let it happen. All he has to do is watch Sam complete the trial and it will be over; all the losses will add up to an unprecedented check in the plus column.

A footstep along the floor causes Dean's eyes to dart open and, as Sam inches closer yet to the end and raises his bloodied, illuminated hand towards his passive patient, the sight of it breaks Dean's trance; his protective instinct takes hold and he sees _not_ the man who will rid the world of the demon plague, but the kid brother who he has always defended and put above everything else.

And, right now, that brother looks like warmed over crap. Sam's pale, sunken cheeks; the spatters of blood that dot his weary and suddenly aged face, his youth having somehow melted away through the pores of his skin in just the few short hours they have been apart, sets Dean's jaw in silent determination.

The pain of watching his brother so fragile yet internally pulsating with the power to complete the last trial tears away at him, but the thought of having to watch Sam die, again, while he is powerless to stop it would shred him; piece after his piece of his heart, soul, and reason for living would be ripped out, slammed down and crushed under destiny's boot.

A rumble bubbles up his throat and a small smirk adorns his face as he recalls the phrase he coined back, not long ago, when the brothers first faced the incredulous task of saving the world. '_Screw destiny, right in the face.'_

They will find another way and they will do it like they always have; together.

His decision is made, and it is a resounding no. No. He can't, he _won't_ let his brother sacrifice himself, not when Sam should never have been here in the first place. This is _still_ all on him and he will be damned if he's just gonna let his brother leave him, not when he secretly longs to find the light, the one at the end of the tunnel that Sam keeps babbling on about and is so sure exists.

"Sammy! STOP!"

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**End. Thanks for stopping by.**


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